


The Last Something that Meant Anything

by idkmanokay



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, F/M, I AM SORRY, Jyn joins the Pathfinders, Manipulation, Mentions of non-con, Minor Leia Organa/Han Solo, Seduction, bad ass jyn, bad communication skills jyn erso, cassian cares too much, dark themes, everyone lives au, han solo and jyn are taciturn asshole buddies fight me, han solo has feelings sometimes, jyn does what has to be done, mayday parade inspired, mentions of abuse, mentions of torture, rebellions may be built on hope but they also involve some fucked up things, saw gerrera really fucked her up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 18:17:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9397259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkmanokay/pseuds/idkmanokay
Summary: Jyn Erso has done a lot of things she's not proud of. She's self aware enough to know she's not what most people would call a good person. Lying, stealing, violence, and deception came easy to her, which is what made her so valuable to the Alliance and the Pathfinders. Han Solo knew what she could do and how good she was at it, and that had gotten her into this mess in the first place. He just wishes it wasn't him who had put her name up for this, but he'd seen her in action. No one could do this but her, even if the thought of her anywhere near the mark made his mouth burn with something that tasted suspiciously like regret.





	1. Han Solo does something he's not proud of (again)

**Author's Note:**

> obviously everyone lived. i am sorry this is unedited but i am seeing where this idea takes me, lemme know if i should even continue pls thank you i am needy

Jyn Erso has done a lot of things she's not proud of. She's self aware enough to know she's not what most people would call a good person. Lying, stealing, violence, and deception came easy to her, which is what made her so valuable to the Alliance and the Pathfinders. Han Solo knew what she could do and how good she was at it, and that had gotten her into this mess in the first place. He wishes it wasn't him who had put her name up for this, but he'd seen her in action. No one could do this but her. Even Andor would agree, if the self righteous man was here.

"Jyn, I know this is hard to think about..." Mon Mothma looked like she'd rather be anywhere but in this room. Her robes were still brilliantly white, not betraying the grime of what she was asking. Han thought it was a nice irony. Even Mothma was willing to get her hands dirty enough on this one to be in the room. They all knew what was at stake here. Too many Alliance secrets were in danger because of one crazy and sadistic Imperialist. 

"I'm sure you do," Jyn's voice was flat, betraying none of how she felt, almost chilling in its monotony. Han gave credit to Mon Mothma for not shrinking back under the force of Jyn's apathy. 

"He has info we need," Leia Organa spoke up, looking determined, if not a bit nauseous. If he didn't think it would hurt their case, he would laugh. Leia, always the idealist, was asking her friend to do something that might change her forever. Deep in the back of his mind, Han is just glad that it's not Leia who has to do this. He would burn cities down before the perfect princess went anywhere near their target. Known for his sadism, the former torture master of the Empire wasn't someone Han wanted Leia in the same system as, even though he'd take that to his grave. The agent they'd tried before Jyn was in pieces somewhere, though she hadn't even been made. Just not his type, apparently. 

"And the only way to get that is to what? Pimp me out?" Jyn's voice is biting, cutting and the fire in her eyes is burning brighter than Han has ever seen it. It's what makes her so good in the field. 

"Look, kid, Governor Axel is notoriously tricky and a slimy old bastard. You're young, hot, and a brunette, and under 5'4. You even have green eyes. You can handle yourself. He won't let anyone else in but someone like you," Han tries to placate her, knowing even as he does it that if she agrees to do this and survives it that he might have to watch his back for friendly fire next time the Pathfinders have a fire lit under their asses. He doesn't relish the thought of Jyn in this situation, but even he can't think of a better way. 

"Either you fuck him or good operatives die, Sergeant. Axel has intel, and we need to know what he knows. Captain Andor may be made or he may be fine, but we have to know. No one gets close to him unless they're about to be under him. And he only lets very specific people there. So take one for the team and suck a damn dick!" Draven has had enough of this beating around the bush, finally getting to the point, forgoing any sense of decorum. 

Han doesn't see Jyn flinch. If he didn't know any better, he would think she had no reaction at all. Draven knew that letting her know it was Cassian under cover would do the trick. The fire in her eyes is brighter, and Han thinks he may have to look away from the energy bubbling just beneath the surface of Jyn Erso. Using Andor against her had been a low blow, but they were desperate to get someone in, and Jyn was the only one good enough to get herself in and get herself out without blowing up the whole thing in their faces.

"General Draven-" Mothma begins sharply, but Jyn interrupts with a shake of her head.

Taking the chance, Leia shoves the data stick into her hands. She knows Jyn is doing it, as they all knew she would. 

"You leave immediately. Everything you need to know is on that stick. Bodhi will fly you out, he's already waiting. There's an outfit for you on the ship, hanger 19. Everything is already there. Read the file, memorize it. You're on your own for this. You're doing the Alliance a great service," Leia says earnestly, if not somberly.

Back straight, Jyn turns around, stalking out.

"I'm not doing this for the Alliance," Jyn's words are acid, and Han can't stop his stomach from turning. He's not pure or innocent, but the thought of what Jyn is about to do doesn't sit well with him. He doesn't want her in this situation anymore than he wants Leia there. Of all the people on the base, Han think Jyn might understand him the best. Sharing a look with Leia, he turns to follow Jyn into the hallway, leaving the sounds of the leadership of the rebellion starting to argue about the mission again behind him. He enters the hallway in time to see Jyn slam her fist into the hard metal wall.

"Kid," Han doesn't know what he's trying to say, but him and Jyn have an understanding at this point. She doesn't look at him, just continuing her march towards the hanger where Rook is waiting for her.

"Is Cassian actually there or is Draven just using him to get me to go?" Jyn is so ferocious, it's hard to remember that she's so tiny sometimes. Han thinks about the pictures on the data stick Leia gave her, the bruises shaped like hands around the throats of the young girls after Axel is done with them. Axel raises high above the standard height for men on his planet, tall and imposing. Jyn would look like a child next to him, exactly what made her the one for the mission. 

"Andor is actually there. He's been under cover for 4 months in Axel's office, gaining access to his files on the Empire's intelligence division," Han tries not to let the regret seep into his uncharacteristically serious voice.

 

"Right." Jyn flexes her fingers out, inspecting her hand, as if she's contemplating slamming it into another wall. 

It's not hard to keep up with her as she slips through the crowds on the base, even as fired up as she is. 

Han keeps his mouth shut, just matching her pace for pace as they get closer and closer to the hanger.

"Bodhi doesn't know, does he?" Jyn asks, boots stomping harder than necessary. He wonders if knowing what Jyn was about to do, all in the name of the Alliance, and some so-called "hope" would send the pilot into another tailspin like the one after the blind monk had taken a blaster bolt to the chest and needed a week in bacta. 

"No. He doesn't need to know." Han can give her that much. 

"Good. I know Axel. He used to be head of the Empire's torture tactics." There's an unspoken acknowledgement of the mission and why it has to be done there as the ship comes into view, Rook eating an apple on the ramp, obviously waiting for Jyn.

His face brightens when he sees Jyn, but she doesn't smile back, face tight and wound. Han's stomach does a turn that feels suspiciously like guilt.

"Erso, you know you can't kill Axel yet, right? We need him," Han says, brows drawn together. He wishes for nothing more than to give her permission to give Axel the painful death Jyn is so good at.

Jyn's mouth is a lopsided smile that feels more like an ode to death than a genuine smile. Han doesn't think he'll wipe this smile out of his head for a long time. Its the smile of someone who knows they're about to court something a little worse than death. It's the look of someone who doesn't give a fuck anymore. 

"I know what I have to do, General." 

Han doesn't comment on the mockery of his title for once, giving Rook a nod, and hoping when he sees her again, she'll still have that spark of defiance and hope that makes Jyn Erso so goddamn special. With a final look he doesn't care to understand, Jyn makes her way onto the ship, Rook following with a confused look at the tense air.

Han Solo turns around and walks away, pretending he doesn't notice the distinct sound of a small fist hitting the metal side of the small ship.

Han Solo has done a lot of things he's not proud of, but sending Jyn Erso on this mission may be the worst. Fuck the rebellion, he needed a drink.


	2. Like a Moth to a Flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry its short i'm still feeling out the response to this story

The Jyn of 7 months ago wouldn’t even be considering this. She would have laughed in the Rebellion’s face and been in hyperspace before they even realized the loss of one of their ships. But Jyn now was sitting cross-legged in the copilot’s chair, scrolling through the information from the data stick Leia had given her, scowl growing worse with ever new word. Leia may have been the closest Jyn got to having a real friend, the nagging idealist, but right now, Jyn would rather have been friends with a Hutt. 

“Jyn, what’s wrong?” Bodhi takes his eyes off the whirls of stars flashing past at insane speeds to glance at his friend, explosive even in her stillness.

“Nothing is wrong, this mission is just ridiculous,” Jyn keeps her voice tight. The file in front of her, displayed on the data pad thrown across her lap, seems easy enough. Governor Axel of the Empire was an old-fashioned man; he didn’t keep droids around, he had someone hand polish his boots, he liked his women submissive and silent, and he kept the information he wanted to keep closest to him written down in a small pocket journal that was kept on his person always. The agent stationed there (Cassian, Cassian, Cassian rings through Jyn’s head) had only seen it twice in the 4 months, but was certain it was there. Despite the voraciousness of his reputed appetite, Axel was a one and done man- one good romp and the man was out like a light, no violence in involved. Jyn would have preferred violence. Stupid, for the Empire to trust a man so easily brought down, but getting to a position to bring him down wasn’t easy. He was picky and intimidating, and if you didn’t fit his type, you wouldn’t be around much longer to be anyone’s type. So far, it looked like no one had gotten close enough to exploit the flaw in the Empire’s treasured torture man. 

Ridiculous didn’t even begin to cover what Jyn had to do. There was a perfect opening tonight for her to make her way into Axel’s vision, at his biweekly foray into the bar scene on the bleak planet they’d stationed him on as a base for his investigations into Alliance intelligence. Investigations, in Jyn’s head, was just a politer way of talking about the torture Axel was an expert at. It wouldn’t take long, the man took what he wanted with no regard for anything but his own clouded ideas. In and out in less than a day. One day to figure out what he knew before leaving, with Cassian if he had been made, by herself if he was safe. He had his mission, she had hers.

Bodhi gives her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Jyn, you can do anything. Leia and Mon Mothma wouldn’t have given you anything you can’t handle.”

The confidence in Bodhi’s eyes hurts to look at. She’s not clean, she’s not pure, and she’s not sure she can handle this. While Bodhi may be right about Mon Mothma and Leia, she knows that their dedication to the cause would overshadow any concerns about her wellbeing. The rebellion came first to people like Leia Organa, Mon Mothma, and Cassian Andor (her head hurts to think of him). 

“We’ll see,” Jyn mutters, giving a weak smile back to Bodhi. Her hand aches where she had hit it against the walls earlier. 

Even Solo, the nerfherder, had known how important the mission was. His greedy and opportunistic ass had asked her to do this, put her name on the table. She knew why. With Axel digging into Rebel intelligence, and Cassian digging into him, more was at stake than just one life. It was a game of cat and mouse between the two sides that they couldn’t afford to make. If Cassian was made, they would lose their key player, and the web of information he’d been weaving next to Axel. If Cassian wasn’t made, they had access to the Empire’s info on them. They couldn’t take him out until they knew everything he knew. All Jyn had to do was lie back and think of the rebellion. 

(It wasn’t the rebellion she’d be thinking about, it would be of dark eyes that cut down to her very soul, and an accent that echoed through dreams of light and heat and a beach). 

Bodhi knows her well enough to keep silent the rest of the journey, just gently informing her when they’re an hour from realspace. 

Stomping into the ‘fresher feels like a death march. Just as Leia promised, there’s an outfit lying in wait for Jyn. They knew she would agree to this before she even walked in that command room all the way back on Hoth. With a deep breath, she gets ready, turning herself into someone else as easy as a snake shedding its skin. Her hair, clean and shiny, stays down, curling gently. This new person is demure, sweet, wearing a floral dress that straddles the line between innocent and provocative, high necked, but brushing against the top of her thighs. Tight on the bust, loose on legs. 

Jyn Erso entered the ‘fresher, and Moreá Adulina exits.

*

Cassian Andor has played more than his fair share of people. Some have been good, some have been bad. He thinks Jamis Frinz may be the worst. 

Jamis Frinz is a fanatic to the Empire, no stranger to torture, murder, and anything else Governor Axel could need, like disposing of bodies of girls that didn’t please him.

Jamis Frinz waits for his superior office to get back from the bars to make sure he sees the briefing on Alliance intelligence rumors before he goes to bed so they can be ready to go in the morning. Cassian Andor swallows the bile in his throat the thought of the girl that Axel will bring back this time. He knows what happens to the girls that catch the Governor’s eye. 4 months under cover had been enough to make Cassian’s hand twitch towards the regulation blaster at his side every time he saw the man he was supposed to be serving under. Jamis’ hand stayed cool and steady though, saving Cassian’s life for now. He had a sinking suspicion that Axel was beginning to suspect him. Draven had assured him in their last encrypted communication that it was being taken care of. 

In moments like this, when all he had to do was wait in the dark of Axel’s office before his private chambers for the man to come back, Cassian’s mind will slip back to what exactly he’s fighting for. He used to hear his mother’s laugh, then her screams. He used to see his little brother’s big brown eyes, feel his father’s large hand pat his young shoulder. He still sees them, but now he sees other things too. He sees the ripple of land being torn apart, the shadow of an extra moon that shouldn’t be there. He sees his team, bold and brave and stupid, willing to die for the same things he is. He sees big green eyes, and feels the pressure of someone clutching him as if he’s the last thing she wants to feel before he dies. 

Shaking off the images of a small body wielding batons like they’re an extension of her body at the sound of tinkling laughter approaching, Cassian pulls himself together. Axel’s back, and he found a girl for tonight. Motion activated lights turn on, illuminating the luxurious office Cassian is waiting in. 

The doors in front of him slide open, revealing the couple outside. It takes Cassian a beat longer than usual to process the scene in front of him.

Axel, tall and imposing as usual, dressed entirely in his black dress uniform, arm slung around the waist of a small woman. The grip looks tight, the fabric of the girl’s dress bunched up around the harsh hold. The first thing Cassian notices about the girl is her stature. She only comes up to the Governor’s chest, and looks frail against the bulk of the man holding her. In the same second, Cassian notices the dress, which seems to be flirting with the line between seductive and innocent, breezing against pale thighs that look strong and lithe. He knows the dress is exactly what Axel would look for in a woman, and in the millisecond after realizing the artful use of the dress, he sees the face, and everything comes together. 

Jyn Erso is standing in front of him, leaning into the man who has just shot to number 1 on Cassian’s kill list. This must be what Draven meant when he said they would take care of Cassian’s suspicions about what Axel knows. It’s a testament to Jyn’s skills that she looks completely at ease with the situation and the man who holds onto her like he owns her. Cassian’s heart may have missed a beat, but no one but him would ever know that. It had been over 4 months since he’d seen her, and there is nothing he wouldn’t trade for her to be anywhere else right now. He knows why she’s here, and what she’s about to do. 

“Sir, I have the report on Alliance intelligence movements,” Jamis Frinz has a crisp and cool Core accent, and doesn’t look away from the Governor, no matter how much he wants to drink in the sight of Jyn. The data stick in his hand doesn’t shake at all.

Axel doesn’t hesitate to let his annoyance at being interrupted show, an ugly look spreading across his face. 

“Dismissed, Sergeant Frinz,” Axel barks, holding onto Jyn a little tighter, as if she might slip away from the mere presence of someone else in the room. 

Cassian takes one last look at Jyn. She looks smaller than he remembered, but maybe that’s just the fact that she’s hiding her fire behind fluttering lashes and simpering smiles.   
She’s still magnetic, drawing him in like a moth to a flame, just waiting to be burnt up by her. 

“Sir.” Cassian nods, places the stick on the table, and walks out the room, every instinct in his body screaming at him to stay there and stop what Jyn is about to do for the rebellion, for him. He ignores them, and hates himself a little more for it. The sound of Jyn laughing, a breathy thing that is more whoever she happens to be that day than the Jyn he knows inside and out, follows him out. Cassian already knows it will be in his nightmares tonight.  
*  
6 hours later, Cassian stares at the message in front of him.

ABORT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi still seeing where this idea takes me, feedback is highly appreciated thank


	3. a little proud, a lot concerned, but not surprised

Blood roars in Cassian’s ears. Every second he sits in hyperspace without news, without any information on Jyn is too still, except for the beating of his heart in his ears, loud and insistent. The exit from Axel’s facility had been too clean, too by the book to sit well with Cassian. In his experience, the cleanest missions were the ones that always had some hidden catch, some flaw too small to notice immediately, but tripped you up later. Shedding his identity as Jamis Frinz had been easy, and the ship had made the jump to hyperspace with no issues. No star destroyer in atmosphere, no Stormtroopers blocking his way out of the base.

The ship is too quiet. Cassian misses Kay-Too most in times like these, if just for some statistic that he would ignore about the probability of success and failure. Jyn promised to find him another K-2SO unit, but hasn’t had any luck yet. Another voice would take him away from his thoughts of Jyn, curled around a man Cassian wouldn’t hesitate to throw off the nearest cliff, even if he wasn’t a threat to the Alliance. 

Jyn, Jyn, Jyn.

He had heard nothing about her, about her mission. He didn’t know if she was alive or dead. The pounding of his heart in his ears only got louder the longer he thought about her.

Cassian stares at space whizzing past him without any comprehension, the scenes playing in his head keeping his attention. Seeing Jyn earlier had been the first time he’d seen her in 4 months. After Scarif, after the Death Star had been destroyed, Jyn had enlisted in the Alliance. It hadn’t been him, Bodhi, or even Leia Organa who had convinced her to finally do it. From what Cassian had heard, Jyn had gotten drunk with Han Solo one night, and was a Sergeant in the Alliance the next day, following General Solo in the Pathfinders. First in, last out. The two worked well together, both unorthodox and irrational. He didn’t pretend to understand their relationship, and neither did Leia when she told him about it, visiting him in his room to bestow him his medal of honor, the same one Leia had given to all members of Rogue One. Jyn had lost her medal during a rambunctious night of gambling, and Bodhi had gotten it back for her. The memory brings a small smile to his face, even as the worry about her settles into his bones. He has a bad feeling about this. 

When sleeping became too hard, it had been Jyn who had sat up with him on a ship, not saying much, just watching his back like Kay-Too once had. He had been prepared to die with her, and had instead lived to see another day, to see what Jyn hid underneath the blasters and vibroblades and batons. It was Jyn who still tied his insides in knots. Jyn could break him down with a few words or set him ablaze just from being near her fire. He hadn’t seen her since their last fight before he took the Governor Axel mission. She had yelled so loudly he was afraid she might collapse in on herself. He had never fought with anybody like he fought with Jyn. The spark in her eyes still leaped across his vision when he closed his eyes. 

He doesn’t want to think of what might have happened after the doors to Axel’s office had closed behind him, but that doesn’t stop his mind from coming up with different scenarios, each worse than the last. Jyn, hands tied behind her back. Jyn, kneeling in front of Axel in that floral dress, the fire in her eyes doused. Jyn, dead on the ground, purple handprints on her throat. 

Jyn, Jyn, Jyn. 

Sighing, Cassian tried to relax. He tried to find the hope. He made it off planet, and if he had, Jyn could have too. Jyn could work, talk, or fight her way out of almost anything. He could hear Chirrut’s voice in his head, telling him to trust the Force. He misses Baze and Chirrut, wishes they would return to base soon. He may not have trusted the Force, but he trusted Jyn.

The jolt out of hyperspace is a welcome distraction. Landing the craft by himself keeps him occupied, even if it’s just for a few minutes. 

The feeling of wrongness in Cassian’s bones gets worse the second he steps off the ship and sees Bodhi standing in front of him, wringing his hands. Whenever Jyn went on a solo mission, Bodhi was her pilot. Cassian was one of the few people that knew Jyn was a passable pilot, but having Bodhi along with her seemed to calm both of them down, so Cassian kept his mouth shut about the arrangement. Bodhi was standing in front of him, but Jyn wasn’t. His heart jumps in his throat at the rough look in Bodhi’s eyes.

“Bodhi? What’s wrong? Where’s Jyn?”

Bodhi swallows visibly. “General Draven wants you in the command center now. I’m to take you to him, and not tell you anything along the way.”  
Cassian’s heart stops again, and before he really has time to think through what he’s doing, he’s sprinting across the hanger.

Jyn, Jyn, Jyn.  
*  
Han Solo is not having a good day, and as soon as Andor burst through the door into command, he can tell its only going to get worse. The man just looks like a problem.

The Captain obviously ran here, the nervous pilot Rook trailing in behind him a full minute later. Han doesn’t relish what they have to tell him. Andor’s hair is ruffled and he’s in need of a good shave, but his breathing is steady. He stands at attention, back ramrod straight, no hint of the beast Han is sure is inside of him, the thing that makes him so valuable to the Alliance. Cassian Andor looks the picture of calm, but there’s that glint in his eyes, the one that reminds Han of Jyn, of the danger hidden behind the cool exterior. Han’s headache gets worse just looking at him. 

“Where’s Jyn?” Andor doesn’t even try to beat around the bush. He’s been in deep Imperial cover for 4 months but his first question is about her. Han isn’t surprised-she did (does, Han reminds himself, she’s not dead yet) have that effect on people.

“Welcome back, Captain Andor,” General Draven tries. 

“What happened? Why did we have to abort?” Andor’s accent is heavier than usual, the only outward sign of whatever is going on in his head. 

Draven opens his mouth, but Leia takes control before he can even get a word out, obviously feeling the need to get some sort of handle on the situation.

“Your mission was over. Governor Axel knew you weren’t who you said you were. He didn’t know you were Alliance yet, which is why you got off planet so easily. Getting you out while we still had the chance was imperative. Did you bring your files on what you found?” Leia’s voice is smooth, sure, giving no hint to the worry she felt for Jyn. 

Han knew she was worried, because he was too. Somehow the scrappy little fighter had turned around and made him like her, against his better judgement. Getting attached to someone was just asking for trouble. Even Chewie liked her, though, which said something.

Andor looked fine, but Han could still picture the last time Jyn and Cassian had been together, the quiet gravity that bound them together. Jyn had yelled so loudly and with so many creative insults that even Leia had been impressed. Andor’s calm was waning. Han had learned months ago not to get between whatever was between Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor. 

“Yes, I have more than enough. Where is Jyn? I saw her before I got the message. She was with Axel,” Cassian brushes aside Leia’s explanation, focusing on the girl. 

Unhappy at being interrupted the first time, Draven starts talking, and Han really wishes he hadn’t. 

“Your mission was over, but Sergeant Erso’s was just beginning. Sergeant Erso found more than just Axel’s information on you. She found that Axel has several more books of writing on his information than was expected, and will be staying undercover until the information can be recovered. She sucks one cock and gets further in a night than you do in 4 months. Never send a man to do a woman’s job, eh? Axel has taken quite the liking to Sergeant Erso’s skills, and intends to keep her around until he tires of her,” Draven says this as if Jyn isn’t in danger every second she’s there, and Han can see the vein in Andor’s temple throb. For one wild second, he thinks Andor will punch the other General. Draven has all the intelligence of a dead Gungan, it’s a wonder he ever got to the top of Rebel Intelligence. 

 

“Jyn is fine, for now, Cassian. She got the message out to us about your cover, and saved your life,” Leia is gentle but firm, the picture of composure. Han knows her well enough by now to see the small flicker of doubt in her eyes, the knowledge that it was her, her authority, that sent Jyn to Axel. A picture of Jyn, bruised and battered, enters Han’s head. 

He wonders if Leia sees the same thing.

“She’s not fine there, and you know it. What are you going to do about it?” Andor’s voice is low, thunder on the horizon. Han is curious if this is the first time he’s questioning the authority of the Rebellion. Maybe Jyn was rubbing off on him.

Leia is made of steel when she replies, iron in her voice. There’s no trace of the girl who lost her entire planet there, just the Princess, and Senator whose word is law around here.

“I know just what Axel does to women, Captain. You’re not the only one who cares about Jyn. But she can take care of herself, and we need to trust her to carry out her mission.   
This is for the Alliance, for the greater good. I have hope, and you should too.”

Andor stands extremely still. Rook is behind him, pulling at a piece of string hanging off his flight suit. Han can feel the situation falling apart. Leia is staring daggers at Andor, ready to fight him herself. The two usually got along, because they were so similar. Controlling idealists, the lot of them. 

“Erso can handle herself. Report back here tomorrow for your official debriefing and next mission, Captain. You’re dismissed.” Han needs Andor to get a handle on himself, and if that means wielding his station, then he would do it. His headache is a full-on migraine now. Why did he ever stick around this shit show?

“Sir,” Andor’s tone could cut glass, and when he walks out, Rook trailing behind him like a lost puppy, Han hopes Jyn will be back soon, because he can’t handle this kriffing rebellion without her. 

*

They don’t hear from Jyn for almost a month, besides the weekly data uploads. There’s nothing beyond the files Axel has been collecting. Nothing personal, no information on how she’s doing.

Han fears the worst, covering it up in bravado. He tells Chewie she’s fine, probably living the high life as an Imperial mistress. He knows every day she’s there is another day she   
might die, or experience something worse than death. 

He hasn’t seen Andor in weeks, the man taking every mission he can get his hands on. He doesn’t blame him. The stress of a smuggler is nothing compared to the stress of a general who misses his explosive delinquent of a friend. 

When he finally hears something, he isn’t surprised at the news and his orders. A little proud, a lot concerned, but not surprised. Jyn is nothing if not a goddamn problem of a spitfire.

Jyn has killed Governor Axel.

(He’s surprised it took almost a month for her to do it. He just hopes they get to her in time.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think, i love hearing from you all:)


	4. a beat up, bloody, and stubborn ghost

Han Solo doesn’t consider himself a nervous person. He’s confident, to the point of arrogance. Without him, the Death Star would still exist. He can handle almost anything thrown at him.

He’s not sure he can handle the stress of having the life of the person closest to a friend thrown into his hands.

Han Solo doesn’t like stress. He doesn’t like letting his stress show in front of the Pathfinders, either. 

“Stop pacing,” Kes Dameron instructs, head leaning back against the ship, eyes closed.

“You don’t tell me what to do. I’m in charge here,” Han says without any actual venom in his voice.

Kes opens just one dark eye to look at Han.

“We’re infiltrating and destroying an Imperial outpost. Nothing we haven’t done before. Jyn just happens to be in there. But she can take care of herself, and she’ll be waiting for us.”

“You didn’t see the file on Axel. He’s not normal, and Erso was in there for a month. Its already been hours since we got the call,” Han mutters, hating the concern leaking into his voice.

“Careful, General, people might start to think you care,” Kes actually opens both eyes to look at his commanding officer.

Han is saved from answering, Chewie calling him from the cockpit. They were about to exit hyperspace. Upon last report, there were no star destroyers in the area, but they wanted to be ready. Han slides into the pilot’s chair, the controls of the Millenium Falcon familiar to him. He knows what to do here, he earned the right to his arrogance in this chair. 

The exit into atmo is smooth. The Empire thought they could handle one apparently murderous ex-lover of some random Governor. Han almost laughed. They had no idea how to deal with Jyn Erso. No one did. Their arrogance would be their undoing. His ship was filled with enough explosives to turn the facility Jyn was in into ash ten times over. He just needed to find her first.

One saving grace had been that Andor had been on a radio silent mission when the call had come in. Han doesn’t know what he would do if he had the pressure of Cassian Andor here too. As it is, he can only imagine the hell the man will raise back on base when he discovers the mission to retrieve Jyn had gone on without him. He doesn’t envy Leia the coming hours. Draven can deal with this shit.

Chewie roars.

“I know, I know. She’ll be fine, she fights dirty,” Han replies, trying to reassure himself too.

As the ship comes down towards the black stain on the bleak grey landscape, Han’s hand twitches for his blaster. There’s a trail of smoke winding its way into the sleet colored sky, a dark stain. Jyn has been busy. He just hopes she’s still alive. This planet is truly the bleakest thing he can think of. Grey rock, grey rubble, grey water, it looks as if all color has been drained from the landscape. The city in the distance looks just as desolate, a jumbled pile of short buildings. If he was here for longer than a few hours, he would need to hit a bottle of Corellian gin. A month on this greyscale hellscape would drive him crazy. His friend was down there, and they were going to get them. With the Pathfinders at his back, Han Solo might actually have faith.

**

“This is why having friends is a bad idea!” Han screams to Chewie, the smell of ionized air thick in his nose. “You get attached and then you actually care whether they get blown up!”

Chewie lets out a loud roar that even the sound of so many blasters can’t cover, hitting another Stormtrooper from a blast from his crossbow that sends him flying through the air, hitting the wall with a satisfying _thunk_. Han takes his own Stormtrooper out, the much smaller blaster doing the job just fine.

The attack on the base was going well. The Empire was growing lax. They cut through the Stormtroopers like a hot knife through butter. Han wonders what exactly Jyn had been doing before they got there. 

Kes’ voice in Han’s ear informed him all the charges had been laid, they were just waiting for his signal. But they weren’t going to get the signal until he found Jyn Erso, goddamn it. If she wasn’t here, they would be gone already, on their way back to base, the facility a distant column of black smoke. As it was, they had 19 minutes to find her before their time was up, and they had to go. 20 minutes until a star destroyer showed up in the atmosphere above them and ruined their chances for a clean escape back to rebel airspace. Han Solo was starting to get desperate.

Facing a Cassian Andor in a world without a Jyn Erso is not on his list of things to do.

Facing Leia without Jyn, and seeing the look of helplessness at the loss of her friend is not on his list of things to do.

Losing one of the only people that can actually stand him is not on his list of things to do.

Han takes a deep breath as Chewie takes out the last Stormtrooper in the corridor in front of them.

“What are we missing?” It feels like they’ve been through the entire facility already, and even he might be out of ideas. There’s a sound of approaching footsteps, the distinct march of Stormtroopers in uniform.

“The Force will guide you if you only let it, Han Solo,” a new voice intones.

On instinct, Han turns, trigger finger pressing hard before he can stop it.

Chirrut doesn’t seem fazed, dodging the blast in a way that a blind man shouldn’t be able to. It singes the wall behind him, right where his head had been seconds ago. Han doesn’t have to look far to find his shadow, Baze Malbus, dropping a Stormtrooper’s body to the ground behind the monk.

“Great, now the whole gang is here. How the fuck did you get here?” Han is too tired to play guessing games, especially with these two. They had an annoying habit of showing up in the middle of trouble, and showing up whoever had been there first. The Stormtroopers he had heard approaching round the corner, and the moment of rest is gone.

“I am one with the Force, the Force is with me,” Chirrut says simply, even as he swings his staff behind him, hitting an approaching trooper squarely across the head. The poor guy goes down like a sack of bricks.

Baze snorts, huge blaster taking down two troopers at once.

“We’ve been monitoring Imperial reports. Nobody causes trouble quite like Jyn,” he explains. Han hears the affection in his voice. A soft pang goes through his chest. He needs to find Jyn. He’s lived with the bad things he’s done so far, but letting Jyn down isn’t something that he can live with.

“We knew Jyn would need help, so the Force guided us to her.”

“Well if the Force is guiding you to her, could it hurry it up a little? Where the kriff is she?” Han Solo has no patience for the Force when his friend is in trouble. 13 minutes until they had to be gone.

“Have you checked the basement?” Chirrut’s voice has too much calm in it for the middle of a full on infiltration of an enemy base. Han doesn’t know how Baze deals with this mystic bullshit.

“Basement? There’s no basement on the plans for the building!”  Han shoots one troopers in the chest 3 times. It may be overkill, but he doesn’t care at this point.

“Then why is there an elevator that only travels down?” Baze points down the hall.

Han stops short. At the end of the hall, a shiny black elevator waits, the button clearly pointing down. The doors are open, like a cavernous mouth waiting to eat them.

“Of course, there is a secret floor in this building! Why would this mission ever be easy?” Han drones.

Roaring, Chewie clears him a path, and Han surges forward. Time is running out, and he doesn’t have time to stop and question things anymore. He feels the monk and the assassin coming behind him, crowding into the elevator behind him. He jams his finger into the button with more force than is necessary.

In the short ride down, Chirrut’s voice fills the silence.

“I am one with the Force, the Force is with me.”

“Can you stop?” Han asks, the muttering chilling him.

“He doesn’t stop,” Baze grunts, and the mantra continues.

“Right,” Han feels the elevator comes to a stop, and steels himself. Nothing good ever comes from a hidden floor in an Imperial intelligence base where the director of the base is the former head of torture for the Empire.

Silently, the doors slide open, and Han really should be, but isn’t, prepared for the scene in front of him.

Stormtrooper bodies are piled on the floor, their white armor like the shell of some dead bug.

Jyn, wearing a torn dress, blood smeared across the copious amounts of exposed skin, is wielding two truncheons like an extension of her body, a hurricane of motion.

The dispatch of the last two troopers is all her, taking them down with grace and rage. As per usual, Jyn didn’t need them, getting everything done on her own. Han just stands there, at the end of the hall with his two companions, drinking in the sight of her as she stills, facing them now.

Now that she’s not moving, Han can see her a little clearer.

She does not look well.

On instinct, he starts moving forward.

“Little sister,” Baze breaths, sounding lost.

“About damn time,” Jyn wheezes, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth, sparks jumping from her eyes. He moves a little faster towards her.

Han catches her just in time, her truncheons falling to the floor, clattering against the hard floor. He sweeps her up in his arms, her body offering no resistance. He tries not to think about how much lighter she feels this time (last time he had to carry her out of a mission, she had shattered her kneecap, and had screamed at him about she could walk on her own- when he had set her down, she had fallen face first into mud and he had thought about leaving her there for good measure). This time, she’s out cold, taking all the fire with her. He’ll have time to feel relief that she’s still alive later. Right now, he needs to get her out.

“Give her to Baze. I can hear your exhaustion, Han Solo,” Chirrut orders, reading the situation without seeing it, and Han can’t argue. Baze is bigger, and he needs his blaster handy.

He doesn’t expect the feeling of loss that hits him when he hands Jyn to Baze. He doesn’t have time to think about it, Chirrut already moving him back towards the elevator.

“Dameron, found Erso, exiting right now. Blow her sky high!” Han barks out the order into the comm unit, hearing the first explosion a few seconds later.

Their exit from the facility is a blur. Han just remembers flashes of light that are the charges his team set, the kickback from his blaster, Chewie’s growls.

The facility is now nothing more than a pile of rubble and ash.

When they finally get back to the ship, Han finally has his chance to get a closer look at Jyn as Kes hovers over her, administering what medical aid he can to her. Her breathing is shallow, and even he can hear how labored it sounds.

She just has to make it back to base. Time is a luxury he doesn’t think they have, looking down at Jyn, laid across a bench.

He knows he’ll remember the sight for as long as he lives.

His friend is still out, wearing a dress that is ripped up to her ribcage, bones prominent against pale skin. At least one is dislocated. Han knows enough about fabrics to understand that the dress was expensive. Now, it’s nothing more than a couple of rags, kept together by a few threads. It doesn’t do anything to cover the cuts up and down Jyn’s body. The blood smeared across her skin doesn’t do anything to hide the bruises that are shaped like hands on Jyn’s thighs, arms, and throat. She has a blaster wound high on her shoulder and shrapnel in her thigh. Han can’t force himself to look closer. He doesn’t want to see bite marks in his friend’s skin.

Chirrut holds her head in his lap, stroking her hair as he continues to chant about the Force. If the blood in her hair bothers him, he doesn’t show it.

Han can’t take it, and heads back to his pilot’s chair. At least there he has some solid ground.

“How soon to base?” Kes asks, and even his cool demeanor seems to be shaken by the state Jyn is in, putting a bacta patch on Jyn’s shoulder.

“Kes Dameron, get the fuck off me,” Jyn spits out. Her eyes are still closed, but every bit of the heat from her eyes is in her voice. It’s weak, but it’s Jyn.

“We’re entering real space now. Medical is on standby,” Han answers tersely.

“I don’t need medical, I just need a nap,” Jyn insists, trying to sit up.

“Don’t even try me, kid. You’re going straight to medical,” Han puts on his best General voice, trying to keep his concern out of it, even as he focuses on landing the ship.

“No, I’m not.” Good to know that Jyn is still as much of a goddamn problem as she was before.

The ship lands, and Han finally lets the relief sink in. Jyn’s alive, and back on base where she can be taken care of. If she even lets herself be taken care of, Han adds. Judging by the way Jyn is pulling herself up, despite protests from Kes, Chirrut, and Baze, she isn’t going to be model patient. Han can’t even begin to think about how she’s doing in her own head. He doesn’t want to think about what she’s been doing this past month to get that info for the Rebellion.

“Jyn-“Han starts, but she’s already up and going down the ramp, completely ignoring him and everyone else on the ship. With a sigh, he follows her off the ship, ready to catch her when she falls again.

“You’re being stupid. You have two blaster wounds, and I don’t even want to talk about those cuts and bruises. If you would just let someone help you for once, maybe you wouldn’t faceplant this time. But no, Jyn Erso doesn’t let anyone help her, she doesn’t need anyone, she can take down an entire base by herself!” Han keeps ranting, knowing nothing will get through to her, but trying anyway.

It takes a second for his eyes to adjust to the daylight of the base. Waiting at the bottom of the ramp is a small crowd of people. Han’s eyes immediately focus on Leia. He doesn’t see anyone else until he finishes making sure she’s okay. He was only gone for a few hours, but if anyone could get into trouble in that time, it’s Leia Organa. She’s flanked by Bodhi Rook, and a medical droid. The two humans have their mouths open, staring at Jyn like they’re seeing a ghost. A beat up, bloody, and stubborn ghost.

For a second, he thinks Andor isn’t there, still on his mission, but the Captain is already halfway up the ramp, striding purposefully towards Jyn. Even Andor’s mask has cracked, and concern for Jyn trickles into his expression.

Drops of Jyn’s blood hits the ramp. She stumbles, and Han was right to follow so close behind her. Everything has finally caught up with her, and she goes down, just like he knew she would. For once, Han doesn't relish being right.

This time, Cassian Andor catches her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments always welcome  
> come find more at my tumblr: goddamnproblemjynerso.tumblr.com  
> thanks for reading:)


	5. love makes fools out of everyone

Not hearing from Jyn for over a month had turned Cassian Andor’s mind into a storm, an unintelligible mess of worry and stress and green eyes.

Thinking about what she was doing in Axel’s company had propelled his fist into a few walls. He knows it’s a bad habit, and can honestly attribute it to spending time in Jyn’s company.

Seeing her in his dreams every day for that month had hurt worse than the black eye he’d gotten in that month, hurt worse than the dislocated shoulder, had hurt worse than the new scar on his hip.

(He wonders what new scars she’ll come back with.)

Knowing Han Solo was more in the loop than he was about how Jyn was had rattled even his faith in the Alliance. He had never questioned them before meeting her.

Coming home from a radio silent mission only to have Senator Organa tell him that Jyn had killed Governor Axel and the Pathfinders had been sent in to retrieve her and blow the facility had been terrifying. Knowing he couldn’t help at all had been even worse. He needed to have her back, like that day on Scarif.

(If he had known that there was a mission underway to pick Jyn up, he would have killed the informant and been done with the whole thing.)

Being left out of the mission had made his fist clench at his side, nails digging half-moons into the skin of his palms.

Waiting for the Millennium Falcon (he can’t stop himself from thinking about what a piece of trash it was), knowing that Jyn was on there and she needed medical, had been torture. Leia had lain a small hand on his shoulder as if that’ll stop the visions of Jyn dying on that damn ship from flying through his mind.

Cassian is way too aware of what Axel was like, and what the nature of Jyn’s mission was. She had ingratiated herself in with the Governor by warming his bed, regardless of the consequences.

(Consequences like bruises, new scars, new hurts. All he ever wanted was for her to be safe.)

Nothing compares to the panic and mind-numbing terror Cassian Andor feels when he sees Jyn walking (limping, shuffling) down the ramp, looking like she was hanging on by the skin of her teeth. Even from here, the marks across her skin are obvious. There’s too much blood smeared across her pale skin, what may have once passed for a dress hanging limply off her body in tatters. Her blood is dripping steadily onto the ramp she’s trying to walk down, shiny and red. She’s barefoot.

Green eyes meet dark brown ones, a thousand words left unsaid in the space between them.

_I can’t be what you want me to be._

His body moves before his mind catches up, halfway up the ramp before he even knows what he’s doing. He just knows he must reach her. He doesn’t even notice Chirrut and Baze and Kes Dameron behind Han Solo. All that exists for him is her.

_Jyn, Jyn, Jyn._

Cassian knows Jyn well enough to know that look in her eyes. It’s half-crazed with pain and something he doesn’t want to think about. But beneath all the rage and horror and pain, there’s Jyn, the goddamn problem he knows so well. Vaguely, he hears Han Solo’s voice, going on about Jyn’s stubbornness, but can’t look past Jyn’s beat up form in front of him to see the man trailing her like he knows she’s about to pass out too. He gives her maybe two more steps before she goes down.

She makes it one step before the pain catches up to her, an empty look spreading across her face as her eyes roll back in her head, and her body collapses in on itself.

Catching her is instinctive. Her body feels too small in his arms as he scoops her up, holding her close to him. He wants to pretend he doesn’t see the bruises shaped like large hands against her throat. He wants to pretend that Jyn has just had too much to drink with Solo again, and is just sleeping. He wants to pretend he’s just taking her to bed to tuck her in, not to the medical wing to make sure she doesn’t die.

“See, I told her she was going to pass out again. But when does Jyn Erso ever listen to anyone?” Han Solo throws his arms in the air.

“Why was she walking?” Cassian can’t help the scowl that spreads across his features as he carries Jyn back down the ramp. She feels too light, like she might disappear at any time. Her blood is seeping through his shirt.

“Because she wanted to. I tried to get her to listen, but she’s about as obstinate as a Hutt,” Solo complains, trying (and failing) to hide the concern in his voice.

“Is she going to be okay? She’s bleeding a lot,” Bodhi’s big eyes look alarmed, worry spread across his face at Jyn’s state.

“Jyn will be fine, Bodhi. General Solo, take the rest of your team, and report to Mon Montha and General Draven for a debriefing. Captain Andor, give Sergeant Erso to the 2-1B,” Leia instructs, at least making the effort the hide the unease in her voice at her friend’s state.

The medical droid has helpfully brought a stretcher for Jyn. Cassian ignores it, walking past the small group of people. The only way he can have Jyn’s back the way she needs is if he’s right there, holding her in his arms.

The screams from their last fight echo through his head.

_I can’t be who you need me to be._

_I don’t need you._

_I can’t do this._

Her green eyes, flashing with fire and rage, are burnt into his mind. He sees her, strong and graceful, the blaster she had stolen from him that very first mission strapped to her thigh, a vibroblade twirling between her fingers with an ease that speaks of years of practice. He wants to see her like that, not bruised and broken and bleeding against his chest.

Cassian just got her back, he’s not about to let her go again.

_Jyn, Jyn, Jyn._

*

Leia Organa has had enough of thick-skulled men to last her a lifetime.

“Cassian, I know you’re concerned, but the best thing you can do for her is to give her to the 2-1B,” Leia tries again, following her best intelligence agent. The stupid lovesick man is determined to carry Jyn all the way to medical, and her patience for it is about up.

“Jyn doesn’t like 2-1Bs,” Cassian says, ignoring the insistent medical droid following him.

“Yeah, Jyn isn’t really a fan of droids,” Han backs up Cassian, and Leia thinks it may be the first time they’ve ever agreed on anything. She isn’t a fan of it.

“What does that matter? It’s the best thing for her! And why are you still here, Solo? You’re supposed to be reporting to Draven, not following Erso to medical!” Leia knows she gave him his orders already.

“What, you think I’m gonna let Andor just waltz off with Jyn? No way, your royal superiority complex.”

Leia thinks about shooting him for a second, but thinks better of it. Jyn would not be happy if she woke up and discovered Solo in medical with her. Those two were as thick as thieves. The best thing to do for now is just make sure Erso gets to medical.

“You two and your ideas of what’s best for Jyn is going to kill her before her wounds do!”

“Cassian is just doing what he thinks is best. Even I can see that,” Chirrut offers up unhelpfully.

“Don’t you all have something else to be doing?” Leia is done with smart ass men for the rest of her life. She didn’t sign up for this.

For such a cranky person, Jyn has a lot of people that care about her. Rook, Chirrut, and Baze are all following Cassian towards medical like there’s nowhere else they would rather be.

Watching Cassian handle Jyn, Leia almost feels like she is intruding upon something she shouldn’t, something too personal for her eyes. Even drunk Jyn had never really told her what’s going on between them (she doesn’t think Jyn herself knows), but the whole base usually hears about their fights. Jyn isn’t exactly a quiet person, but Andor is. Every touch, every look he gives the prone woman in his arms says more than he ever would. The electricity between the two had been obvious since the moment Leia had first watched the two interact.

Even now, as they get to medical, the doctor has a struggle getting Andor to relinquish his hold on the woman everyone knows he would die for.

Leia tries not to let the guilt consumer her as she watches Andor reluctantly hand Jyn over to medical.

It doesn’t work very well. She sees the bite marks, the hand prints, the extensive cuts, the blaster wounds, the shrapnel standing out against the skin of her friend before medical removes her from the room. Her stomach turns, because she’s the one who ordered her friend into this. Jyn has been injured before (the woman was a magnet for disaster and danger), but not like this. Not with this level of intimacy and precision. This isn’t random violence- Jyn’s injuries were torture.

Methodical, sadistic torture.

Jyn’s watch squad is ushered into the hallway, away from the room where medical was trying their best to make Jyn whole again. Leia leans her head against the wall, hearing Han slide down to sit on the floor next to her.

“She is one with the Force, the Force is with her,” Chirrut intones. In any other time, Leia would have been comforted by his chanting, the validation of the Force she’d always felt since she was a child.

“What was Jyn doing on that planet?” Bodhi asks, sounding afraid of the answer.

“Being tortured for sport, all in the name of the Alliance. Having sex with a sadist so that we can know a little bit about Empire intelligence,” Cassian snarls, enough venom in his voice to kill a tauntaun.

Every bit of cool indifference that has ever made up Cassian Andor is gone. He slams his fist into the wall, with a force that Leia can see splits his knuckles. It just adds to the blood Jyn already spilled on his clothes.

“Captain, go cool off. We’ll let you know when Jyn is out of the woods and you can see her,” Leia tries to pacify him, but her words sound hollow, even to her. This is her fault. Her friend had spent a month getting tortured because of her and her cause. Guilt makes the bile rise in her throat. She knows its irrational, that Jyn had said yes to the mission with all the details in front of her, and she’d saved lives doing it, but knowing that Jyn was in her current state because of her actions didn’t sit well with Leia.

“Don’t you get it? Jyn’s almost dead because of you!” Cassian shouts. Leia sees Jyn’s fire burning in his eyes.

“Hey! Don’t blame this on her!” Han jumps to her defense, and Leia really wishes he hadn’t.

“Don’t get me started on you! You couldn’t get to lie down long enough to keep from injuring herself more!” Cassian’s accent gets thicker the louder he gets.

Han opens his mouth, anger drawing his brows together, but Leia beats him to his words.

“Captain Andor. Go clean up and get some sleep. That’s an order,” Leia leaves no room for argument in her voice. She doesn’t need her best agent going rogue on her (again).

For a second, Leia isn’t sure what he’s going to do. The man is practically crackling with energy and rage.

Their eyes meet. Cassian’s eyes are a dark pool of things Leia doesn’t care to make out.

But then they reach an understanding. Cassian stalks away, muttering in a language she doesn’t understand. His boots squeak with blood on the tile floor.

Leia looks down at Han, who is staring at the door into medical, as if he can heal Jyn with the sheer force of will. Her heart hurts a little bit looking at him-he’s bloody and bruised and fresh out of a fight, but concern for Jyn overrules anything that might have happened to him.

If there’s one thing Leia is sure about, it’s that love makes fools out of everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the crazy chapter, needed a bridge to get to the good stuff!  
> was scared to write Leia, i just wanna make my space mom proud  
> i still loves comments  
> find me at my tumblr :goddamnproblemjynerso.tumblr.com


	6. compartmentalization doesn't always work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we start to earn that rating now

_“You have such beautiful skin. Pale. The scars stand out more that way.”_

_Moreá Adulina lets a tear slip down her face as the knife trails across the upper part of her thigh. Jyn Erso waits, knowing that because of this, someone better than her, someone with a scar on his ribcage and acceptance in his eyes, is making his escape off planet to safety._

_*_

_Hands wrap themselves around her throat, hard enough to make it difficult to breath and remind her who he thinks is in charge, but light enough not to kill her right away._

_Jyn thinks of 3 different ways she could break his hand right now, and 2 different ways to shatter his elbow completely._

_*_

_Moreá Adulina’s hands are tied to the bedposts. She lies limp, keeping quiet like he likes her to. She likes the pain, is okay with Axel taking his pleasure from her body like she’s just a toy._

_Jyn Erso lies back and thinks of a Fest accent, of dark eyes that manage to shine even in the darkness of a cramped bunk._

_*_

_Moreá takes a moment to clean herself up in the gleaming and opulent ‘fresher Axel has commissioned for himself. There’s a mix of blood and something she doesn’t want to think about on her chest, stinging the deep cut across her ribcage (they’ll have matching scars now)._

_Jyn Erso adds another step in her plans to kill Axel._

_*_

_“You’ve been snooping in my things. I think it’s time you learn what a real punishment feels like.”_

_Jyn realizes she’s gotten sloppy too late. He’s used a different knot this time, made sure her hands are tied behind her back instead of to the bed. She knows she could get out of the ties, but she doesn’t have time. There’s a blinding pain at her temple, and she goes down._

_Her last thoughts are of an elevator shrouded in darkness, the smell of ionized air, and the overwhelming feeling of finally being home._

*

“Sergeant Erso!”

Leia is jolted awake by the sounds of a struggle.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Sergeant Erso, you’re still injured, you need to lie down!”

“Fuck off!” There’s the sound of violent skin on skin contact.

Finally shaking off the daze of sleep enough to understand what’s happening, Leia jumps out of her chair outside medical, racing inside.

Inside is the chaos she hoped they would be able to avoid. With Jyn Erso, she should have known better.

Jyn, hair still wet from bacta, is brandishing a syringe at a concerned doctor. The hospital gown clings to her skin. The doctor already has a bruise blooming across his face from where Jyn had hit him. It would be comical if Leia didn’t know the damage Jyn could do with the needle.

“Jyn, put down the needle, you’re starting to scare people,” Leia says, managing to avoid letting her concern seep into her tone.

Her friend does not look good. One bacta treatment was only enough to make sure she wasn’t going to bleed out, or puncture a lung from misplaced ribs. It didn’t do much for the bruises and cuts still written across her skin. Leia knows they had to stich parts of her back together. The bags under her eyes speak of many sleepless nights that being out cold for 3 days couldn’t even fix (Leia knows what she was doing instead and it doesn’t help her guilt)

“Leia! Am I back on base?” Jyn’s eyes look crazed, the syringe falling loosely to her side. Leia has to stop herself from cringing at how close Jyn came to stabbing herself.

“You’re back on base. General Solo and the Pathfinders helped blow up the compound where you had been stationed. You’ve been seriously injured, and if you could stop threatening my doctors, maybe they would like you more.”

“Oh,” Jyn says, apathy crawling back into her voice and face, “I don’t care. I’m done here.”

Before Leia can make an argument for getting back in bed and letting herself get better, Jyn is striding out of the room, gown flapping about her calves like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

Leia sighs. Goddamn problem. She hurries to follow Jyn out into the crowded hallway. People stop and stare at the damaged girl walking around in a hospital gown with a princess stalking after her.

“Jyn-“ Leia reaches out to grab Jyn’s shoulder, and immediately regrets her action. Her friend spins around, forearm across Leia’s throat before she even has time to react. The crazed look is back in Jyn’s eyes, like a cornered wild animal, she thinks dully, air becoming a scarce commodity.

A beat passes, those in the hallway looking stricken.

Leia doesn’t move, unsure of herself for once in her life. Jyn is fragile right now, still bleeding and right out of medical. Leia knows that she could stop Jyn in the state she’s in right now, but she’s frozen, letting the air slowly leech out of her.

A few months ago, a rowdy pilot had been drunk and tried to grab Leia. Before she had even had time to react, Jyn had slammed the man against the nearest table, warning him against ever coming near her friend again, voice like silk hiding a razor’s edge. Even knowing full well that the former princess had been overly capable of defending herself (she’d had a blaster strapped to her thigh at the time), Jyn had taken it upon herself to be Leia’s personal bodyguard and defense squad all in one.

Now, she’s making the edges of Leia’s vision go blurry. She can’t reconcile this Jyn with the Jyn that had casually broken an Imperial man’s neck during a mission for even mentioning Leia’s name.

(She knows that what had happened on that dark and bleak planet had changed Jyn. She just didn’t know how much. _This is your fault_ , the traitorous voice in her head whispers. She tries not to listen to it, but it’s hard to think anything at this point.)

“ERSO!” A voice roars down the hallway, making its way through the buzz in Leia’s head.

It’s as if a cloud has cleared from Jyn’s eyes, and the pressure vanishes from Leia’s neck in the same second.

Jyn looks stricken, and Leia dimly thinks that this is the first time she’s ever seen her look scared. She opens her mouth as if she means to say something, but then closes it just as fast, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. With that, she’s gone, racing off down the hallway.

The air doesn’t come easy again to Leia. She coughs, one hand automatically going to her throat, the other one waving away the concerned rebels in the hallway.

“Leia! Are you okay? What happened?” Rough hands pull her against a warm chest. She lets Han pull him against her, but only for a second. One breath later, she pulls away, back straight, eyes dry. She is made of steel.

“I’m fine. I grabbed Jyn. She wasn’t expecting it, won’t do it again,” Leia’s voice wheezes. She knows she’ll have a bruise on her throat tomorrow. Jyn was small but strong, even beat up and just back from the brink of hell. She makes a mental note to find her turtleneck sweater.

Han swears.

“Don’t blame her. She didn’t know where she was when she woke up. Hit the doctor. Something happened with Axel, I should have known better than to grab her.” Internally, Leia berates herself for doing something so stupid.

“Yeah, something happened. It’s called torture. Where did she go? She isn’t okay right now. We need to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself, or anyone else for that matter,” concern outweighs the casual arrogance that always seems to hang in Han’s voice.

Leia has never wanted to kiss him more. Doesn’t mean she’s going to.

*

Cassian is in the middle of a brief about a new mission when he hears Jyn escaped medical by assaulting a doctor, and almost killed Leia while she was at it.

(Of course she wakes up for the first time when he's not there to calm her down.)

He wasn't even really listening to Draven to begin with. Ever since Leia had dismissed him from Jyn's bedside, he can't focus on anything but blood spattering a ramp, purple fingers staining pale skin, the feeling of loss that pervades his every waking moment when he can’t be next to her, watching her back.

He's fucking sick of not being there when she needs him, and only hearing about things after it's too late for him to be of any use. The shirt her blood stained is in a crumpled ball on the floor of his quarters, the only thing out of place. She wasn’t the only one that had found a home on a suicide mission they weren’t meant to survive, but had anyway.

They weren’t meant to live. That’s what it all came down to. But they had, and now there wasn’t any going back to a place where they could live without each other.

_I don’t need you._

Well, Cassian amends wryly in his head, a place where he can live without her. He thinks of their last fight, of the feeling of her skin against his, soft sheets and then loud yells and harsh words, and tries not to get lost again. Cassian is not a man who likes to feel lost. His whole life he’s been sure of himself, of the fact that he doesn’t need anyone, known what he has fought for, and how far he is willing to go. Until he met her.

Jyn had the bad habit of fucking things up.

When he closes his eyes, he can still feel the fear that pounded him every step he took with her in his arms. He still sees her making her way down that ramp, fresh out of an escape from torture after murdering her torturer (rapist, the dark and cynical voice in his head murmurs), looking like the angel from his nightmares.

"She assaulted a doctor and the Princess?" Draven's mouth hangs open in disbelief. Even after working with Jyn for all this time, he still constantly underestimates her skills and her rage.

(Stupid, Cassian thinks to himself, Jyn's rage is 55 percent of her personality.)

"Yes, sir," the messenger answers. She can't be more than 15. It's not crazy. Cassian was younger than her when he got involved in all of this.

Draven swears, dismissing the messenger with a grunt, turning around to his best agent. Cassian is already gone and out of the room.

_Jyn, Jyn, Jyn._

*

Jyn Erso has had a lot of time in her life to learn how to compartmentalize. She would say she's good at it, one of the best. Her life has fallen apart around her more times than she can count, but she's always persevered, locked her emotions down until she can stand up straight and continue do. That kind of life didn’t leave any room for vulnerability. She did it when her parents died, she did it when Saw abandoned her, and she did it when she thought everyone she cared about was dead, or about to die. She can do it again.

The box she's making to keep Axel in feels dangerously insecure, like it will burst at any time. It rattles with every step she takes down the hallway, just trying to make it to her quarters.

(She decides that if they gave her small room away she's going to set the base on fire.)

Nobody talks to her as she makes her way through the base. Smart of them. Jyn feels too loose, like her grip on reality is slipping. Her arm still feels like its pressing down on a windpipe, even as her mind screams at her to stop.

When her code still works, door sliding open to reveal the room almost exactly how she’d left it, she can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes her chapped lips. The bed is made now, with regulation edges and folds. It wasn’t that way when she left it. A blaster, the same one she’d stolen from a bag on a ship long ago, is laying on the pillow, just waiting for her to take it back.

(The box she put Cassian Andor in aches at the sight).

She’s not home (no, her home is with dark eyes and the scent of leather, metal, and pine trees, and she can’t seem to stop herself from destroying that), but this small room, with its knives across the floor, thigh holster hanging from the chair, and small ‘fresher, is all she’s going to get right now.

Stopping only to grab clothes from the neatly packed drawer under her bed (they weren’t that way when she left either), Jyn makes her way into the cramped ‘fresher. She doesn’t look at herself in the mirror.

Axel wasn’t the first time Jyn had been tortured. Saw had planned for the possibility, and made sure she had been prepared. By age 15, the fear had been trained out of her. At age 20, she’d had her first real taste of torture, thanks to some disgruntled brothel owner Jyn had made the mistake of underestimating (he’d only just gotten to the good stuff when she escaped and snapped his neck with her thighs).  All of those things had gone into their own compartments in her mind, hidden away in a dark part of her mind. It wasn’t healthy, Jyn knew, but she didn’t have the luxury of fixing it now.

This time had been different. She can’t put this away, can’t shove Axel’s smile and hands and body into a dark corner of her mind, echoing on her skin. Every time she tries, fire floods her skin, and she can’t breathe all over again. Jyn forces herself to move, wills her mind to be quiet.

Taking the well-loved medical kit out of its corner, Jyn takes stop of her injuries. Ribs back in place, no immediate threats of bleeding out. She aches all over, bruises blooming like morbid flowers. There’s a blaster wound at her shoulder that is going to scar. Badly. The stiches on her thigh are busted. She stops there.

With practiced fingers, Jyn stiches her thigh back up. The methodical actions give her back some semblance of control, and she finds her hands aren’t shaking anymore. Her breath doesn’t hitch in her throat. She keeps her stiches neat and tight, trying not to think of the last time she’d stitched a wound back together.

(His tanned skin had been warm, almost too hot against her steady fingers. They didn’t do missions together again after that.)

Getting dressed is more a challenge than she thought it would be. Her pants slide over bruises that sting at the slight contact. Something burns on her back as she struggles into her shirt, but she’s gotten this far.

Jyn hears his footsteps outside her door. She knows the only reason he makes sound is so that she has the option of locking the door, of turning him away. Most of the time, he’s even quieter than she is, despite his greater size. She’s just finished pulling her shirt down when Cassian appears, leaning against the doorway of her ‘fresher.

“Jyn,”his voice brings back the feeling of falling into his arms, of being safe and warm against a sturdy chest. She’s not sure if it’s a dream or not. She avoids his eyes. She doesn’t want to see the concern in them, the evidence of nights with no sleep.

“I wasn’t sure if you would show up.” Jyn brushes past him back into the small room, careful not to touch him. A thousand unspoken words lie between them, too many memories heating up the small space.

_I don’t need you._

Their last fight plays through her head at hyperspeed, colored by his skin on hers, the drag of a fingertip up her spine, the ease of harsh words leaving her mouth.

She snags the thigh holster hanging from the chair, clipping it on as if the motion doesn’t make the burning in her back worse. The blaster slides home against her thigh like it belongs there.

She hears him move, jacket rustling softly, and makes the mistake of looking up. She meets his eyes, and the cloud in her mind is gone, blissfully cleared out, replaced by twin worlds of dark brown.

“You know I’ll always come for you.”


	7. too much, not enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jyn and cassian don't know how to talk to each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was so nervous to write this chapter i hope it turned all right lmao

_You know I’ll always come for you._

If Cassian didn’t know Jyn as well as he did, he would think she had no reaction to his words.

(Jyn is so expressive sometimes people forget she’s just as good as he is with shedding his skin and becoming someone else, truth buried so far beneath the façade it’s hard to separate fact from fiction anymore.)

But he’s made his way inside her shell. He sees the brief hope, the vulnerability, the happiness, the concern, the fear, the rage all flash through her body before she finally settles on apathy. The fact that he even caught that much is just a testament to her exhaustion. It’s evident in the curve of her spine, the set of her jaw, the tension in her eyebrows.

“You didn’t need to come,” Jyn intones, no inflection in her voice, even as she turns away from him. Once upon a time, he may have said something about her ass. That time is long gone, buried beneath the months and the fights and the new scars. Now, all he can focus is on the small red dots appearing along where her ribcage is.

“Like hell I didn’t,” Cassian retorts, sitting himself down on her bed, settling in.

Jyn doesn’t look at him. He wants to pretend that it doesn’t hurt, but he knew what this was going to be. They were never easy. Too many emotions and memories existed between them. Hurt. Anger. Trust. Something else he didn’t want to name.

(He did name it once, in a dark bunk, cool air cooling sweat stained skin. He doesn’t know if she was even awake to hear it.)

“Cassian, I am fine.” Her voice is delicate, deliberate, like she doesn’t want there to be any confusion about her words.

 “You are not fine, Jyn. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me. Would someone who is fine choke out their friend? Would someone who is fine assault a doctor for touching her? You were just tortured for a month by a sadist! You don’t have to be fine. You have to let yourself feel.”

“This wasn’t the first time I was tortured, and I doubt it will be the last. Don’t tell me you’ve never been tortured for the good of the Alliance either,” Jyn’s voice stays a study in apathy, her body language unchanging.

“I was never tortured by someone like Axel.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Finally, a hint of something in her voice. Cassian will take it, even if it is a challenge.

(They always ended up in a fight.)

“Axel was a different kind of sadist.” He doesn’t want to say it.

Her stance shifts just so slightly to the left, and he doesn’t have to see her face to know that she’s just raised an eyebrow.

“What, someone who is a sexual sadist? Don’t get modest on me now, Captain Andor.”

“Force, Jyn, yes. You were being used for sport! I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Cassian wants to grab her, to shake her into feeling something.

As soon as she turns around, a fire blazing in her eyes, Cassian wants to take it back. As usual, Jyn went from zero to a hundred faster than he could follow, and he isn’t prepared for the fire burning her eyes.

“You don’t need to make sure I’m okay! I am a grown woman, Cassian, who knew what she was getting into. You think I didn’t know what I had to do to get close to Axel? I knew exactly what I would have to do. I willingly and knowingly went into Axel’s bed. I seduced him, as was my mission. I did it for the Alliance, for Leia and Han and Bodhi and Chirrut and Baze and my parents and you, so we could be one step closer to a galaxy without the Empire in it! I did it so you could get off planet. No one ever ordered me anywhere. I went where I wanted to go and did what I wanted to do. I understood what I was doing, and I’m dealing with the consequences.”

“Dealing with them by attacking a doctor and a Princess?”

Jyn smiles without any humor, a cold curve of her lips that never fails to send a shiver up Cassian’s back.

“I’m a work in progress, what can I say?”

“Jyn,” Cassian sighs. Why did she always have to make it so goddamn hard?

“Cassian,” she mimics.

“You almost died on this mission,” Cassian’s voice gets quieter.

“I almost died on Eadu, too. We both almost died on Scarif. You almost died on that last mission to Naboo we had together. This is a rebellion, people die all the time.” Jyn falls onto the thin mattress.

 _I don’t want you to die,_ Cassian thinks, but keeps that to himself.

Jyn has always been told she feels too much.

(When she wanted to, she was unreadable, feelings and emotions buried so deeply beneath the blank exterior she didn't know where the persona ended and she truly began.)

Cassian has always been told he doesn't feel enough.

(He feels so much, he worries it might consume him if he lets it.)

Cassian runs his hands through his hair, messing it up even more. If K2SO was still here, it would have never gotten to this point, but he’s been too stressed out with Jyn being gone to even care. Now she’s here, in front of him, and they’re back to where they were before he left on the Axel mission in the first place.

In truth, Jyn just didn't care enough to hide her feelings, and Cassian wields an iron clad control over his because most people can’t handle the intensity.

Lately, though, it feels like they've switched roles.

Right now, it's Cassian on his feet, yelling, gesturing with his hands, letting everything he feels out.

Jyn is sitting back, face carefully wiped clean of any indication of what she was feeling.

"Why won't you let me in? We’ve been through too much together for you to do this," Cassian knows he’s toeing the line with her, but he doesn’t care, eyes dark and stormy, looking for an answer to a question he doesn’t know how to ask.

"Cassian, stop," Jyn's voice is too quiet to his ears, passion absent.

"Just talk to me! Tell me what happened. You can't keep things bottled up inside forever. I know what it's like, Jyn. Deep cover missions that don't end well, torture, I've been there. Leaving it inside you to fester makes it worse, it eats up your soul."

"My soul has worse things to worry about than Axel. I don't need to talk, to you or anyone else. I'm fine."

"Bullshit," Cassian says, partly because it's true, partly because he wants to see some of the old fire back in her eyes. This apathetic Jyn, wearing her disinterest like armor, unsettles him.

"You don't need to be watching my back all the time. I can take care of myself, I thought I made that clear before you left for the Axel mission," Jyn enunciates, voice hard.

The memories of their fight race through his mind.

(He wishes they wouldn’t. He doesn’t need to relive one of the worst nights of his life, when the only thing that had made sense in a long time had walked away from him, taking hope with her.)

"You can't stop me from caring about you. I'm still your friend, and I'll always have your back. That mission wasn't good for you! You shouldn't have taken it."

"Someone had to, why not me? I got in, and I got out, which is more than the one they sent before me. You got out fine, because of me. I know what I'm capable of, Cassian, and don't need you micromanaging what missions you think are acceptable for me because you think I’ll get hurt!" There's a spark back in her eyes, and her voice raises.

Cassian allows his voice to soften. "Jyn, I caught you when you passed out after getting back. I carried your broken and bleeding body to medical. I saw what happened to you, I still see the marks on your skin from what he did to you. Axel hurt you, in ways I can't even imagine. You were tortured, and r-"

"I knew, and got, exactly what I signed up for. But you know what? I killed Axel. I killed him, even as he was going to kill me. It wasn't pretty and it was painful and I tortured him first. How does that sit with you, Captain Andor, knowing that I tortured somebody and I enjoyed it?”

“That’s not what bothers me! I’ve done things for the Rebellion I’m not proud of, too. If I had gotten my hands on Axel before you, his death would have been slow and painful under my knife instead of yours. You killing Axel isn’t the problem.”

“Is the problem that I fucked him?”

All the training and experience he’s ever had can’t stop the wince from escaping Cassian. Jyn, with her talent of detecting weaknesses and exploiting them, leaps on it, body too rigid for how injured he knows she still is. He’s not entirely sure how they got here, to this conversation, to this fight.

“Oh, that _is_ your problem. You’re mad I had to seduce somebody. You’re upset I fucked somebody else, even if it was for the Alliance, especially since it was for the Alliance. I’ve read your file, Captain Cassian Andor, I know what you’ve done for the Alliance. It’s not like you’ve never seduced and fucked somebody for a mission.”

(He’s not surprised she’s read his file. By his estimate, she hacked into the files less than a week after returning from Scarif.)

“No, Jyn, the problem isn’t that you fucked somebody else. The problem is that you seduced a sadist, and stayed in cover as his plaything for a whole month, and ended up getting tortured for it, and now you’re pretending like it didn’t even happen. You won’t even stay in medical long enough to get better! You’re bleeding through your shirt, and I know you just stitched up your own leg in that ‘fresher. There are bruises shaped like handprints all over your body. I can see a fucking bite mark on your throat,” Cassian bites out, losing patience in a way only Jyn can make him do.

“Just because I’m not reacting the way you think I should doesn’t mean I’m not reacting. I don’t need you to tell me how to act and think and live and what missions I can and cannot take,” Jyn intones, but the fight seems to deflate out of her again, and she sags against the small bunk frame.

Cassian is afraid all over again. He sighs, sitting down next to her on the bed.

(The magnetic feeling between them is still there. Sitting this close to her is both too much and not enough at once.)

“Let me stitch up your ribcage for you,” Cassian offers. They always ended up fighting, even when he came to make sure she was okay, to have her back like she needed.

He tries not to let the way she flinches away from him hurt.

(He fails. It hurts worse than the last time he was tortured.)

“I don’t need you, Cassian. Just go, please.” Her voice takes him back to Eadu, both of them soaked to the bone, rattled to the core.

_You’re no better than a Stormtrooper._

Rising, Cassian lets his feet take him out of the room even as his head screams at him to stay. Every nerve in his body sings her name, telling him that now is not the time to leave her and her self-destructive tendencies alone. But it was what she wanted.

He pauses at the door, looking back into the room, committing every detail to memory: Jyn, still as a statue, blood leaking across the shirt from what had to be a deep cut on her ribcage, his blaster strapped to her thigh, face carved from marble, eyes chunks of jade with no beginning and no end, eyes glittering strangely.

(Later, alone, when he thought back on it, he’d realize she was trying not to cry.)

“Welcome home, Jyn,” he whispers, knowing she’ll hear him.

Then, he’s gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jyn and cassian, while great at nonverbal, cannot do the verbal thing together
> 
> i still love comments
> 
> im on tumblr: goddamnproblemjynerso.tumblr.com


	8. feelings ruin judgement

 

Han Solo knew he shouldn’t have gotten out of bed this morning. The voice in the back of his head (that sounded suspiciously like an uppity Princess) told him he would regret getting up and getting ready for this mission. He should have listened.

If he had known Jyn Erso would be stalking towards him, dressed in all black and looking like an omen of death with a blaster strapped to her thigh and the glint of a vibroblade handle peaking over the top of her boot, he would have stayed in his regulation bunk. A shiny new pair of batons finishes the visible weapons on her person. Han doesn’t doubt that there are more on her. A glowering General Draven follows at her back, careful to keep his distance from Erso. Han would have locked his door and drank his entire stash of Corellian gin if he had known she was going to try this.

(It was a big stash, too. Old habits die hard.)

“You’ve got to be kidding me. No, no, no!” Han sets down the crate full of explosives he was carrying back down on the tarmac, far harder than he should have. Draven, to his satisfaction, flinches as the fragile crate bangs against the ground. Jyn has no reaction, not that Han even expected one.

Wind buffs against Jyn’s hair, blowing it into her eyes, but there’s no mistaking the fire burning there as he stands next to Han. A bruise, a mottled assortment of yellow and purple, edges out over the collar of her shirt, complementing the cut across her cheekbone. Han berates himself for letting her catch him with concern in his eyes, evaluating her injuries, and scowls at him, adjusting her vest so the bruise disappears under the dark fabric. There’s an unspoken ‘ _kriff off’_ in the jerky movement.

(Han pretends he doesn’t take secret pleasure in the fact that she has to look up to him to meet his eyes.)

“Sergeant Erso is cleared for active duty,” Draven grumbles, looking like he would rather be anywhere else than on a busy flight deck, sending Jyn off on a mission like a busy parent dropping their delinquent kid off at school.

“Sergeant Erso left deep cover and torture 5 days ago, and was passed out for 3 of those days, she’s not cleared for anything under my watch,” Han retorts.

“I’m fine,” Jyn’s voice is crisp and clear, no hint of the girl who collapsed into his arms a few days ago.

Han raises his eyebrows at her. “I’m not letting you anywhere near my mission. You almost choked out the royal pain in my ass 2 days ago, you’re not ready to go back out there yet.”

“Sergeant Erso made her case, and I have cleared her for duty. Accept the help, General Solo, you’re going to need it on Corumi,” Draven says, tone making it clear that there is no room for disagreement here.

“No,” Han says, because he may care be stupid and reckless in his own right, but he isn’t stupid enough to let Jyn back into active duty before anyone who know what the hell they’re doing clears her for combat, “She’s not coming on this mission. I don’t need help, it’s a simple weapons pick up. Chewie and I are fine, and we definitely don’t need help from someone who still has to have their skin stitched together!”

“I’ve been cleared, _General_ ,” the mockery in Jyn’s tone makes Han grind his teeth.

(Nice to know that her previous mission didn’t change that part of their relationship. If it had, it would be a lot harder for him to hide his guilt and worry over his part in her month with Axel.)

“You haven’t been cleared by medical, because every time they get anywhere close to you, you end up fighting them!”

“I fight everyone. It’s part of my charm.”

Han’s blood pressure skyrockets. Meeting Jyn was not good for his health.

“Look here, kid, you were just tortured, if you think you’re coming anywhere near active combat until you’re fully healed, you’re gonna have to fight me too. You need to rest and recover and get your strength back.”

“Active combat? I thought this was just supposed to be a simple weapon pick up. Whichever it is, I’m coming. We can fight about this until you’re blue in the face, or we can just skip to the end, where I win. Either way, I’ll meet you on board,” Jyn breezes past Han, finding the nerve to pat his chest as she goes, motions dripping with condescension.

“It’s settled. I’m not surprised her and the Princess get along, the whole choking thing aside, they both have a way of ordering you around. Good luck, General Solo,” Draven drawls, strolling away as if he can’t wait to be on the other side of the base.

“Nobody orders me around!” He yells after Draven’s retreating figure, ignoring the way people stop on the tarmac and stare at him. Han’s fist clenches at his side, and he can feel the vein in his temple throb. 

(He understands why Andor always looks so stressed now. Jyn is a goddamn problem when you care about her.)

Draven doesn’t stop, or turn around.

“Oh, don’t think you’ve won that easily. You’re not coming, even if I have to drag your ass back to your quarters myself,” Han says peevishly, turning around to a Jyn that is trying not to laugh.

“You’re going to Corumi, aren’t you? Saw Gerrera had a base there for a while. Brutal local traditions. Lucky for you, I speak Corumian. Let’s get going, shall we?” Knowing full well it’ll set Han off, Jyn reaches forward and up again, patting his chest once more like it’ll settle the matter, before turning around and walking up the ramp of the Millennium Falcon like she didn’t just drip her blood all over the thing a few days ago.

(He wishes he could stop thinking about that. He has enough on his plate with caring about Luke and Leia. He doesn’t need to lose sleep over a small, scrappy, just been tortured because of his recommendation, pain in his ass like Jyn Erso.)

A loud roar greets her as she enters the ship, happiness obvious in the tone.

Han picks up jaw up from the ground long enough to yell into the darkness of his ship.

“Chewie, you’re a goddamn traitor!”

A sound more grunt then yell is his response.

Swearing viciously, Han picks his crate back up off the ground, stomping into the ship. Jyn is making herself at home in her customary seat, kicking her feet up like she has the goddamn right to in his ship. Chewie is already settling into his seat, reunion over with.

“What is Captain Andor going to say about you leaving before medical clears you?” Han knows bringing up Cassian is a risk, but he’s out of options at this point.

(She doesn’t bring up Leia, he doesn’t bring up her messed up relationship with Cassian Andor.)

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Jyn’s voice is breezy, but she stiffens enough to know that Han hit his mark, finally.

“Really? You two were inseparable after Scarif, a fine tuned machine. Rogue One was the best team we had.The man goes through hell for you, carries you to the medical bay like you’re made of glass after losing his mind while you were gone. You take a mission you don’t want because it’ll save him, soften like a piece of melted wax when he’s around, brush off torture because you don’t want to worry him, and suddenly you don’t care?” Han pushes his advantage.

It’s not that he doesn’t want her to come. She’s good, good enough to actually help him and Chewie on missions, instead of just getting in the way. If he’s completely honest with himself, he would even admit that her knowledge of Corumi would be an advantage. There are few people he’d rather have at his back in a fight than her, when she wasn’t tearing him a new one.

“What did Princess Leia have to say about you leaving on a stupid mission to Corumi?”

Han doesn’t bother to hide the displeasure on his face. Just as he knows her weak spot, she knows his.

“Fine,” Han spits out.

Jyn grins widely, and if there’s something a little different about her grin than there used to be, well, Han can’t blame her.

*

Sometimes, Bodhi regrets his choice in friends.

Most of the time, he loves his crew. Rogue One accepted him, made him feel like he was more than an Imperial defector with scrambled eggs for brains. Today had been a good day. Jyn was awake, even if she wasn’t okay yet.

(Bodhi had the feeling she felt like he had after meeting Bor Gullet- unsure of who she was anymore, thoughts too clouded to make sense of anything.  When he stopped by her room last night, she hadn’t said anything, just clutched his hand like a lifeline until they’d fallen asleep.)

He had even been getting ready to win the game.

But when Cassian throws his cards, and he has to duck to avoid getting a paper cut on his face, and he feels like he regrets his decisions more than usual.

“What do you mean, Jyn left?” For someone who made his living by keeping his cool, Cassian Andor seems dangerously close to the edge.

(The only time Cassian seemed to completely lose it was when Jyn was involved. Cassian concealed it well, but he was full of rage and fire, just like she was.)

“Exactly what I just said. Jyn went with Han Solo on a mission. To Corumi, I believe,” Chirrut says patiently, staff grasped between his hands, looking completely at ease with the angry Captain in front of him.

“That makes sense. She speaks Corumian. I win,” Baze grunts, laying down his hand.

“Ah, no, I think I do,” Bodhi says carefully, spreading his cards out in front of him.

(They should know by now that there are two things Bodhi Rook excels at: flying, and card games. Nobody ever suspects either.)

“How in the Force do you always win this game?” Baze wonders, looking as confused as he always done when Bodhi wipes the floor with him.

Sheepishly, Bodhi shrugs, collecting his winnings off the table like Cassian isn’t about to explode next to him.

“He listens to the world around him when he plays,” Chirrut remarks, smug smile on his face, accepting the credits from an analyst that had been watching the game.

“You could at least pretend to be on my side. What does that even mean?” Baze complains.

“Jyn can’t have left, medical hasn’t cleared her!” Cassian’s voice is rising, just like Bodhi is sure his blood pressure is.

(They all pretend like they don’t know Cassian has been keeping track of Jyn since their last vicious fight that the thin walls between their quarters hadn’t been able to contain.)

“Baze, if you would pay attention to more than the credits on the table, maybe you could win too. When you start winning, I’ll start betting on you instead of Bodhi. Cassian, General Draven cleared Jyn personally. Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault you didn’t hear about this earlier,” Chirrut states, serene as ever.

“Draven knows better than to let a compromised agent back into the field! Did they leave already? Solo and Jyn are a terrible team, they never make a plan and go in blind. It’s always a disaster, and something always gets blown up that shouldn’t have. Jyn’s going to get hurt again,” Cassian seethes.

“Well, General Solo is an excellent pilot, and Jyn is an excellent fighter, and they’re never had an unsuccessful mission together,” Bodhi reasons, but quiets down when he sees the look drawn across Cassian’s face.

“That doesn’t matter! What matters is that you don’t put compromised agents into the field!”

“Jyn is not the type to sit around and wait to get better. She knows her limits better than we do. Best to just let her do what she thinks is best,” Baze says.

“There is protocol to follow! And she’s still not completely healed yet, what if the mission goes south? Corumi isn’t known for its peace and quiet,” Cassian tries again.

“He’s about to start pacing,” Chirrut mock whispers to Baze.

“No, my money is on him punching something. Jyn has been rubbing off on him lately,” Baze retorts.

Cassian doesn’t give any indication he heard them, fingers running through his hair.

“Cassian, you don’t need to worry about Jyn, she always comes out okay. Remember after your mission to Naboo-“ Bodhi starts, but Cassian cuts him off.

He’s not surprised. Beyond what miniscule details (it hadn’t ended well, Draven had been furious) Bodhi had gleaned as an advantage of being invisible most of the time, details on Jyn and Cassian’s mission to Naboo were scarce. Rumors as to why the dream team hadn’t undertaken missions together after Naboo were rampant, but Jyn and Cassian both refused to talk about it.

“Why is no one acting like they care about Jyn but me? She’s out there when she shouldn’t be!”

“Careful, Captain Andor, your crush is showing,” Baze remarks lazily, unconcerned with his friend’s growing agitation.

“Don’t mistake our calm for apathy, Cassian. We trust Jyn to know what is best for her.  She wouldn’t have gone if she hadn’t thought she was ready. She’s a restless soul, she needs to be doing something to help the Alliance, and you know that. You’re letting your feelings get in the way of your judgement,” Chirrut says.

With the ease of a master spy, every emotion disappears from Cassian’s face, a perfectly blank slate taking over his features. Bodhi thinks he knows him well enough to see the tension that remains in his clenched fists. Jyn set him ablaze and tore him up, and she wasn’t even on planet.

(In Bodhi’s humble opinion, the sooner those two admitted their feelings for each other, the sooner they could go back to flying missions together and living their lives. It was hard to sleep when he could hear them yelling at each other through the walls.)

A beat of silence passes between them. Cassian unclenches his fist, but clenches it again. From where he sits next to him, Bodhi can see his knuckles whitening.

“Oh, your silence is telling me that you know I’m right but don’t want to admit it. That’s okay, you can get back to me with that ‘Oh, Chirrut, you’re so right, I’m sorry I ever doubted you.’”

Letting a scowl take over his features, Cassian stalks off, rigidity spelt out in the line of his back.

“Should I follow him?” Bodhi asks nervously.

“No, let him stew in his emotions for a little while longer. He would just pine after her and pretend not to, denying it the whole time. He’ll be a mess until she gets back. Best just let him figure it out on his own,” Chirrut waves Cassian’s retreating figure off.

Baze lets out a small laugh, collecting the cards Cassian had thrown back into the deck.

“One more hand, Bodhi? I think I can win this one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im on tumblr: goddamnproblemjynerso.tumblr.com
> 
> lemme know what you think 
> 
> thanks for reading, friends


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